


You and Me, We're a Miracle

by PorcupineGirl



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:07:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorcupineGirl/pseuds/PorcupineGirl
Summary: Jack has basically been over not having a soulmate since he was seventeen.Which is why his reaction to discussions of Bittle's soulmate is so fucking weird.





	You and Me, We're a Miracle

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing I threw together a while back, figured I should get it up here!

Jack has basically been over not having a soulmate since he was seventeen. Ever since he realized it meant he could do what he wanted with Kent without feeling guilty, without feeling like he was "cheating" on some person he might not meet til he was thirty. Not that Kent ever felt guilty, but Jack knew without a doubt that _he_ was the kind of person who would beat himself up over it. He'd wake up in a cold sweat convinced his soulmate would reject him because of it, and find ways to punish himself. Kent had no such compunctions—whoever Allison was, she better be fine with her soulmate having hooked up with his best friend as a teenager.

 

Then Jack landed himself in rehab, of course, and realized he had no soulmate because no one should be saddled with a soulmate like him. It was a good thing.

A few years of therapy helped him get past that take on it, too. It helped that he did a little research of his own into what life is like for people with blank wrists and found that, contrary to popular stigmas, most of them fall in love and settle into long-term relationships. Yes, they're more likely to eventually break up than soulmates, but half of all the mateless settle down with a partner by the age of forty and spend the rest of their lives together.

There are many theories as to why a half a percent of the population never gets a name on their wrist. Many wind up with with people whose soulmate died young, so it's possible that it's just natures way of ensuring those people a second soulmate. Some mateless people claim that they themselves have multiple soulmates, and are content with non-monogamy. Sometimes two of the mateless spend their entire lives together, never knowing if they're soulmates whose names never came in or if they truly have no soulmates and found each other entirely by chance.

So by the time he got to Samwell, Jack knew that he wasn't doomed to a lonely life. He even believed, sometimes halfheartedly, that he deserved to be loved. It'd be easier if he had the kind of guarantee most people have, but he stopped being jealous of people with soulmates by his sophomore year. Sure, he still keeps his wrist hidden, and Shitty and Lardo are the only two who know, but that's because people are assholes, not because he's ashamed.

 

Which is why his reaction to discussions of Bittle's soulmate is so fucking weird. He can usually tune out soulmate talk, and most people chalk up his not participating in the conversations to his generally private personality. It's been a long time since it bothered him to hear someone talk about their soulmate.

But for some reason, when Ransom starts wheedling Bittle to tell him his soulmate's name so he can start looking for guys at Samwell with that name who have _Eric_ on their wrists, Jack just wishes he would shut the hell up.

"Oh, I don't think that's a good idea," Bittle demurs. "I mean that's the point, right? That I'll meet him when I'm meant to meet him."

"But maybe—and hear me out here, Bits— _maybe_ you're meant to meet him via this Excel sheet I'm setting up right here."

"Ransom, for fuck's sake, leave him alone," Jack snaps, not looking up from his textbook. "If he doesn't want you to play matchmaker, don't railroad him into it."

"What crawled up your ass?" Ransom mutters, but he heads out of the kitchen, clapping Bittle on the shoulder on his way out. "Just give it some thought, okay, Bits?"

Jack is glad when Bittle doesn't say anything about it, because he can't explain his behavior himself. Of course if Ransom had kept wheedling Bittle for long enough, or if Bittle seemed truly uncomfortable, Jack would have stepped in no matter what the topic. But he knows that he overreacted, and he knows it was because this was about Bittle's soulmate. Just thinking about it makes his stomach tighten. What the hell is his problem?

 

By March, Jack finds himself clenching his jaw every time his eyes land on Bittle's wrist cuff. So he tries to keep his eyes away from it, which means spending more time looking at Bittle's eyes and hair and ass and—

They're at Annie's when he realizes why he constantly avoids any reminders that Bittle's soulmate exists.

He's just stolen a sip of Bittle's ultra-sugary concoction, and in retaliation Bittle grabs Jack's black coffee, only to make a terrible face when he tastes it. Bittle is holding the cup with his left hand, and Jack is trying to watch Bittle's expression while not acknowledging that the wrist cuff is within his field of vision. A chirp dies on his lips as it suddenly hits him—he hates the cuff because he's desperately in love. And even if Bittle feels the same way, Jack would always be destined to lose him to the man whose name is under it.

 

The worst part is, he thinks Bittle might return his feelings. Sometimes when he looks up, Bittle blushes and looks away. Sometimes when they're alone, they sit close together on the couch or a bed, and as soon as someone else walks in one of them suddenly stands up and makes some excuse for needing to leave the room, or at least cross to the other side. Sometimes at Annie's they lean in a little too far over the table, let their knees press together a little too long. Sometimes he catches Bittle looking at his wrist cuff with the same sad look Jack knows is on his face when he looks at Bittle's.

More than once, he wants to take his off and show him— _look, I'm yours, I'm yours for as long as you want me, I'm guaranteed to be the one to get my heart broken here, it's no risk to you_. But he doesn't.

 

"Harold!" Bittle blurts out.

Jack's head whips up from where he was frowning at his laptop.

"Harold?" Ransom and Holster ask in unison.

Bittle doesn't look happy about it. "Yes, for God's sake, his name is Harold—don't ask me, I don't know anyone named Harold below the age of fifty either. Now you know, so leave me alone."

He makes a "shoo" gesture at them, and within seconds Ransom and Holster are animatedly chattering away and scrolling through Facebook even as they leave the kitchen.

Bittle looks genuinely upset, and Jack's stomach sinks. He should have stepped in again, but he hadn't been sure if he wanted to interrupt because Bittle needed help or because of his own selfish desire to not hear about Bittle's soulmate.

About… _Harold_.

So he'd erred on the side of caution, and now Bittle's been pressured into revealing the name on his wrist when he didn't want to. Great.

"I can go tell them to stop looking if you want," Jack says, knowing it's too little, too late. "I'm sorry they pushed you into telling them, but they don't have any right to do anything about it unless you want them to."

Bittle just sighs, slumping against the counter. "Let 'em have their fun, I guess," he says, looking down at the floor. "Not like they're gonna find a Harold at Samwell with the name Eric on his wrist anyhow."

Maybe Jack is supposed to comfort him with a reminder that _somewhere_ out there there must be a Harold with Eric on his wrist, so there's no reason to think he _wouldn't_ be at Samwell… but he can't, because he's a terrible friend.

 

Jack is in Bittle's room, lounging on his bed and chirping him about not having started the essay due tomorrow yet having stayed up until 2am the night before perfecting his puff pastry, when Ransom and Holster burst through the door. Which is impressive, because Jack would have guessed they couldn't both fit through at the same time.

"BITTY!"

Bittle gasps at the sudden and very loud intrusion, hand over his heart. "Dear Lord, you two just about gave me a heart attack. I don't suppose you oafs ever heard of knocking?"

"We found him, bro!" Holster throws an arm around a very confused Bitty's shoulders as Ransom opens his laptop.

"Found who?" Jack asks, and now it's Ransom and Holster's turn to startle.

"When the fuck did you get in here?" Holster asks, but before Jack can point out that he got in here _a half an hour before they did_ , Ransom shoves the computer in Bitty's face.

"Harold Chan! He's a senior art history major, and guess what name is on his wrist?"

Jack can guess what name is on Harold Chan's wrist, judging by Ransom and Holster's grins. His stomach drops.

"Oh!" Bittle smiles, but it looks forced. "Oh, um, really? This, uh—this guy has _Eric_ on his wrist?"

Jack pretends to feel his phone vibrate in his pocket and checks the nonexistent text. "My dad wants me to call him. Congrats, Bittle," he says quickly as he makes for the hallway.

As Jack's door shuts, he hears Bittle saying, "Well, now, um, doesn't he look… like he has a nice personality?"

Jack puts in headphones, turns his music up, and tries to focus on his class reading.

 

He's about to go to bed that night when he hears sniffling out on the reading room. He sticks his head out to see Bittle wrapped in a blanket. When he sees Jack, he quickly wipes at his eyes.

"Oh! Oh, hi, Jack," he says as Jack climbs out.

"Hey." Jack sits down next to him, resisting the urge to sit as close as he possibly can. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much!" Bittle smiles, all bright false cheerfulness that doesn't fool Jack for one second. "Just enjoying the stars tonight!"

Jack glances at the sky, which is half-covered in clouds. "Er, okay. You're sure? It sounded like you were crying."

"Oh, y'know, maybe I'm having a feeling or two about the season ending soon, and then you and Shitty graduating and all. Nothing earth-shattering."

Jack nods. They sit in silence for a few minutes, before Jack forces himself to ask, "So did you talk to your soulmate?"

"Oh, I don't—I don't think that boy's my soulmate," Bittle says. He chuckles, but it doesn't sound very happy. "Sure, he has _Eric_ on his wrist, but we talked on the phone tonight and… I don't know. He hates sports, couldn't even _pretend_ not to think it was stupid that I play hockey. I tried to find out what his favorite pie is, and he said he doesn't _like_ pie, so I asked about his favorite dessert in general, and he said he doesn't like sweet things! Can you imagine? Even you like dessert every now and then!"

"I always _like_ dessert," Jack says, smirking. "It's just not a good idea for me to eat as much of it as I want."

That gets a smile out of Bittle. "Anyhow, all that, and he's just not my type at all, physically. He's tall, but he's skinnier and scrawnier'n I am, and that's sayin' something—"

"You're far from _scrawny_ ," Jack interrupts. He holds himself back from describing just how not-scrawny Bittle's biceps are, or his ass, or his abs…

Bittle just snorts. "That's awful sweet of you."

Jack is trying  _so_ hard not to be happy about something that has Bittle in tears, especially since it's not like Jack can actually benefit, but he's kind of failing. He pauses, refocusing. "I know it's not really my business, but… is that why you were crying? I mean, that's fine—it's normal to be upset. You got your hopes up and then didn't find your soulmate after all."

Bittle actually _laughs_ at that. "Oh my goodness. No, no. Trust me, I didn't have my hopes up too high even before that boy declared hockey to be 'a little less boring than baseball, I guess.'"

"Definitely a loser," Jack says, and when Bittle laughs again it feels good. Good enough that he can ignore how much it hurts to say, "Well, there can't be _that_ many Harolds under fifty out there with Eric on their wrists. You'll find him, even if he's not at Samwell."

"Right," Bittle mutters, and just like that his mood seems to have gone back downhill.

"Hey," Jack says, desperate to cheer Bittle up even at his own expense, "a lot of people swear it's better to not find your soulmate until you're older, so you can get some experience with relationships first." But not with Jack. With people who have their own soulmates, who wouldn't be signing up for guaranteed heartbreak.

Bittle bites his lip. For some reason, this seems to have brought him back to the verge of tears, which is the opposite of Jack's intention.

"What's the point?" Bittle asks, his voice breaking a little. "I mean, I can see hooking up with someone, or just casually dating some guy I kind of like. But any serious relationship, I'd just be waiting for the day when he dumps me for some stranger with the right name on their wrist. It's bad enough, bein' in love with someone and knowing they've got someone else out there for 'em—" He glances at Jack's wrist, just for a second, but it's enough to make Jack's heart swell with misguided hope. "—I don't really wanna have to deal with the actual rejection."

"Or—or you might be the one dumping them," Jack points out. "For the right… Harold."

If he's not careful, he's going to break down and just show Bittle his wrist and beg to be the one who gets to take up his time and his heart until _Harold_ comes along. That would be a really, really stupid thing to do. Maybe Jack should go inside.

"That's not gonna happen," Bittle says bitterly, his face twisting as he tries in vain to hold back more tears. "That's never going to happen."

Jack swallows. He can only think of one reason why Bittle would be so certain that he won't find his soulmate, and he can't quite let himself hope for that yet.

"If I show you something," Bittle says after a moment, scrubbing at his eyes, "you promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Of course." Somehow they've moved closer to each other, their shoulders pressing together, and when Jack looks down Bittle's face is so, so close. He holds his breath when Bittle reaches for his wrist cuff.

"There is no Harold," Bittle says quietly as he pries open the snaps on the leather cuff. "I pulled that name outta my ass because I thought there was no way they'd ever find a Harold at Samwell, let alone one with Eric on his wrist."

He pulls the cuff away to show Jack his bare wrist.

Jack reaches out and runs his thumb over the smooth, blank skin. He opens his mouth, but he can't speak at first.

"You're mateless," he murmurs. He lets out a disbelieving laugh, and he's not sure he's ever smiled this hard in his life. "You're mateless!" He finally pulls his eyes away from Bittle's wrist, only to see hurt in his eyes.

Bittle jerks his wrist away. "You don't have to laugh," he snaps. "Jesus, Jack, I thought—"

"No, no, no!" Jack uses his left hand to grab Bittle's shoulder and keep him from leaving, while wrestling his own cuff off of it with his right. "I'm not laughing at you, I swear, look!"

He thrusts his bare wrist out. Bittle stares at it for a second, eyes wide, then grabs it with both hands.

"Oh my God," Bittle says. He looks up, a smile spreading across his face. " _Jack_."

Jack does the only thing he can think of, and kisses him. Bittle throws his arms around Jack's neck and kisses him back enthusiastically, and Jack can't form a coherent thought for the next minute or two. All that matters is Bittle's fingers in his hair, the firm muscles under his hands where they're gripping Bittle's waist, and Bittle's mouth hot against his own.

He pulls Bitty closer, and suddenly Bitty is scrambling into his lap, straddling him, which is an excellent idea. They both giggle a little as they try to get situated, then they're making out again.

It's joyful in a way this sort of thing has never been for Jack. Everyone else he's ever kissed, ever been with, he's known not to get attached. Focus on the physical sensations, on feeling good and making someone else feel good, just for the night. Maybe there'll be another night, maybe there'll be a month or two of nights, maybe not. Even if there are romantic feelings involved, he's kept them light and unthreatening, and generally tried to keep them away from sex entirely because he knows it would only intensify them.

He's never felt like this for anyone—wouldn't have let himself fall this hard for Bittle if he'd realized it was happening any earlier. By the time he figured it out, he was gone like he's never been in his life, and now being able to take that and put it into every kiss, every squeeze, every nibble and quiet moan… He thought this was only for soulmates. Even after he'd been convinced that he might not be doomed to live a lonely life, on a fundamental level he still hadn't truly believed he could have _this_.

Some kisses get interrupted by smiling and laughing. When Jack breathes _I love you_ into the skin of Bittle's throat, again and again, Bittle shoves him back against the wall to attack his mouth, his own declarations spilling, broken, into their kisses. Sometimes there are tears, and Jack's not always sure whose they are, wetness just appearing on skin here and there.

Eventually they climb back inside, and the process interrupts things enough to cool them down some. They resume making out on Jack's bed, but it's interspersed with a lot of talking and cuddling. When yawning gets added to the mix, they separate to get into pajamas and brush their teeth.

 

Jack has just gotten into bed and is still sitting up when Bittle slips quietly back into the room. He should lie down and scoot over so there's room, but he forgets about any of that and instead just stares, because _Bitty_ is crossing _his room_ to sleep in _his bed_ with him.

He must stare a little too long, because Bittle pauses next to the bed and just smirks like he knows exactly how broken Jack's brain is right now. Jack starts to pull back the covers, but before he can make a move to lie down Bitty climbs back onto his lap. Jack, being no fool, changes course immediately, pulling him close and kissing him.

After a minute, Bitty breaks off, giggling. "You don't have a soulmate," he whispers. He can't seem to choose between kissing Jack again and swiping away the tears that have reappeared on his cheeks, trying to do both at once. "I can't believe you don't have a soulmate!"

 _Of course I do_ , Jack wants to say.

'I'll never leave you for some random stranger with my name on their wrist," he promises, smoothing his hands down Bitty's back, across his hips and thighs and back up. "I'll never leave you for any reason."

Bitty sits back on his haunches and covers his mouth, though Jack can see his smile peeking out from around his hand. "You ridiculous boy," he says, and smacks Jack's chest. "You can't just… just _say_ things like that!"

"Even if it's true?" Jack reaches up to wipe away a fresh tear as it falls from Bitty's eye.

"Especially if it's true," Bitty says, grabbing Jack's hands and holding them to his chest. His smile fades a little. "A lot of people would say it can't be, y'know. That it's crazy for a boy who's mateless to pretend he can have that kind of a future with anyone. I believed that for a long time."

"That's bullshit," Jack says with conviction. "All we have to do is choose to be together. And then do it again and again, every day. Sounds easy to me."

"I'm sure it won't always be," Bittle says, and leans forward so their foreheads touch, "but I will if you will."

 

They spend most of the next few days curled up together in one or the other of their rooms, making plans. They can't put their plans into action until the season is over, but they let Shitty and Lardo in on them. Since they already know Jack's mateless, and they'll eventually find out they're dating anyhow, it's better that they don't assume Bitty's just going to break his heart.

Finally, a few days after their heartbreaking last game, they sneak off to Boston together.

A lot of tattoo parlors refuse to alter anyone's wrists at all. But there are some, mostly run by mateless people themselves, who understand. Who will help out people like Jack and Bitty as long as both members of the couple are there and agree to it.

Once they've healed, it's easy enough to say that they never said anything for so long because when they met, neither of them thought the other could possibly be their soulmate—which is not only true, but likely would have been true even if they _had_ been born with the names on their wrists. Only their parents and Shitty and Lardo know the truth—Jack never even let Kent see his wrist.

Jack doesn't want to lie forever. And the fact that they're mateless is on their medical records anyhow, so if they want their relationship to have legal standing, if they want to adopt children, they'll have to go through the civil union ceremony in place for non-soulmates. They can put it off for a few years, though, and then they both look forward to being public proof that not having a name on your wrist doesn't doom you to loneliness.

It's possible, they know, that they actually are soulmates, and it's just some hormonal quirk that prevented their names from forming at puberty. Sometimes Jack even thinks it's likely. But if they are, they don't want to know. They'd rather just keep choosing each other, every day.

**Author's Note:**

> My justification for the title of this fic is so convoluted. I was looking for songs about choosing someone, and I was going to go with a line from the song "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles. But the title made me think of Pokemon, and I was like haha, I should name it something pokemon-related and I'll have to explain why in the author's notes. Then while googling for Pokemon quotes I found this, but it turns out it's not really a Pokemon _quote_ , it's a lyric from the song "We're a Miracle" by Christina Aguilera, which is from Pokemon: The First Movie. And funnily enough, while both the title and the "I choose you" sentiment are perfect for this fic, the song itself is about destiny and being meant to be, so the _opposite_ of the fic.


End file.
